


rain* a kitty drabble

by rachelizabethx



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Drabble, Light Angst, M/M, Oneshot, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelizabethx/pseuds/rachelizabethx
Summary: two years after leaving the los angeles institute, kit wonders about the life and love he left behind.
Relationships: Tiberius Blackthorn/Kit Rook
Kudos: 15





	rain* a kitty drabble

**Author's Note:**

> this was the first fic i've written, though I've written it a few weeks ago. this is okay I think? i hope you enjoy! :))

Kit slung his legs over the fence on Cirenworth’s balcony, a warm cup of coffee in his hands. The day was warm, but the otherwise blue sky was blotted out with clouds, and droplets of rain would occasionally splatter into his mug. The balcony was overlooking a small garden, where Jem, Tessa, and Mina sat on a picnic table. Sweet little Mina was already a toddler, her silky black hair tied up in two immaculate space buns that Jem had given her this morning, Mina had a goofy smile on her face, and her brown eyes were bright the way only a child’s could be, Tessa and Jem were chatting away over bowls of fruit and pastries, a habit they retained from the Victorian Era, Mina on Tessa’s lap. His family, Kit thought. His new family. There was Tessa, who he shared his love for stories with Kit, who would hand him some homemade desserts and kiss him on the forehead when he was sad. Who had 100 years of mothering under her belt, who made him feel safe and wanted, who had been the mother Kit had always needed. There was Mina, his baby sister. Who would grab his hand whenever it was possible, who he would read stories to, who giggled at all his bad jokes since she didn’t really have standards for humour yet. Mina who would spin around in the hallways every morning to show him the pretty dress she had chosen today, who loved him innocently and completely. There was Jem, who would take him into town to walk in the park or get coffee at the market, who never raised his voice, even when Kit managed to make unholy screeching noises using the violin that he was mentoring him with. Jem who taught him about Will, and Lucie and James, there was also Cordelia, and Grace, and Thomas and Alastair and- basically all of his distant adoptive relatives separated by almost a century. Jem would show him old portraits and tell him stories, though he was a Silent Brother while they were all in their prime, he knew everything there was to know about them. Apparently, they were great heroes who slew Hell’s Princes and prevented catastrophic wars, the biggest heroes and best warriors of their generation. The Alec’s and Clary’s and Jace’s of their time. Or, the Blackthorns of their time. He winced at the thought of them all. Not a day went by without one of the Blackthorns crossing his mind, almost two years since he had seen them, two years that felt like the longest of his life. Small things, like how Mina’s plaited hair reminded him of Dru, or how pancakes and waffles made Kit long for Julian’s pancakes, they bothered him a bit, like small warnings poking Kit in the back of his brain. A slight feeling of dread or skepticism, like the peaceful, yet terrifying moment before a jumpscare in a movie. Unlike the rest of them, anything related to Ty would arrive like a punch in the chest. Ty hated him, he knew, he said it himself. He didn’t blame Ty for it. Couldn’t bring himself to, couldn’t bring himself to hate him. He knew he could never stop loving Ty. Kit had lied to him, and hurt him, and confused him, he had abandoned Ty when he was grieving and vulnerable- and now he was too much of a coward to ever face Ty again. Kit squeezed his eyes shut. He leaned down with his chest against his legs, his chin resting on his folded arms. He tried to focus on anything but thoughts of Ty, he studied the rain on the green grass, the way it shone as the waxy layers of water covered the ground, the way Mina’s little space buns bounced on her head whenever she moved, each individual bump and crevice and texture on the stone walls of Cirenworth Hall. He focused on every drop of rain that landed on him, it comforted him in a way. Kit had spent his whole life under the obnoxious heat of California, a hellish land of eternal summer. He always thought rain and clouds were better than sun. Gray skies and woolen blankets and tree branches getting whipped around by wind, the familiar and constant sound of rain landing on the windows, they fashioned an ambiance that felt cozy and soft to Kit, like a place to snuggle up under blankets and watch a movie. Ty had thought the same thing. Ty had told him that, once, when he and Kit took a trip out to the beach by the Institute. Ty had been feeling overwhelmed and frustrated on his quest to resurrect Livvy, and Kit had taken him out by the sea, in hopes that would take his mind off things. It had been raining slightly, droplets peppering some Sherlock Holmes book that Ty had open in his lap. The wind was whipping through both Ty’s hair and Kit’s, the salty smell of the water had been diluted by the rain. The wind was messing with Ty’s book, turning pages and curling the ends, he had sighed dramatically, half of his forearm was holding down the book. Silently, Kit reached over and cupped the hardcover in his hand, holding it down for him, their shoulders touching. Their hands had brushed. It had also been raining that day on the rooftop, when Ty had asked Kit to hold him. Maybe he didn’t like rain that much at all. Maybe he just liked it because of Ty. But that was a reason enough. It rained an awful lot in England.


End file.
